All According to Plan
by VampireNaomi
Summary: The Allies want to execute Prussia after WW2. Russia saves him, but he wants something in return.
1. Chapter 1

This story was written on the Hetalia kink meme as a response to the following prompt.

_The Allies want to execute Prussia after WW2, but Russia saves him. How, why, I don't care. _

**ALL ACCORDING TO PLAN**

**Chapter 1**

Russia was not in a happy mood. He couldn't help but get the feeling that even though he was among the winners of this war, his own allies were treating him like dirt. He had worked so hard and suffered so many losses, and they still cast wary glances in his direction. Their hushed conversations ceased whenever they noticed that he was near. He hadn't been invited when America had produced some liquor from who knows where and had decided to celebrate.

It wasn't fair. Who had taken Berlin? He and his men. They had caught their enemies, first Prussia and then Germany. He should have been the one praised as a hero, but instead he was treated like he was barely better than the defeated nations before them.

In a way, Russia could understand that. The world was a cruel and cold place. History had shown him that his fellow nations were utterly incapable of getting along for long periods of time and always reverted back to hurting each other, no matter how many peace agreements they signed.

Maybe they didn't like him because they feared him. This war had shown them just what he could do and that he was a frightening enemy.

Russia had a vision of how he could make the world better for everyone – then they would finally see him as a friend and an ally, not as someone to be tolerated out of necessity – but that was only the grand goal. Smaller steps would have to be taken before that.

And one of these small steps was currently standing before the council, trying to cling to the last shreds of his dignity because his little brother had already given up. Prussia held his head high as he listened to what was being said, how the list of his and Germany's crimes kept getting longer and longer.

It was only a formality at this point. All of this had been said before. Germany was already divided into occupation zones. Prussia had been dissolved and had miraculously survived that. Their worst war criminals had been tried and sentenced. The only reason the brothers' crimes were being read out loud again was that the Allies needed a little something to give them the courage and justification to do what had to be done.

"And that's why," England said, his voice shaking only a little, "we've decided to wipe Prussia off the map."

"You've already done that," Prussia pointed out, not caring that he and Germany weren't supposed to talk unless addressed.

"Apparently it wasn't thorough enough. You're still here." France's voice was dripping venom, and it irritated Russia like it was being smeared against his skin. Friends weren't supposed to talk like that to each other, but Russia guessed it only proved how rotten his western allies were.

"So? Taking everything from me didn't kill me. What're you going to do? Lock me up forever?"

"No. We're going to execute you."

The expression on Prussia's face didn't change at England's words, but Germany looked up from his hands in alarm.

"Hah! Very funny," Prussia said with a snort.

"There's nothing funny about this. You're a terrible influence on Germany, and we've seen what that has led to. At first we thought we'd just separate you, but that's not enough. It's our responsibility towards the whole world to make sure nothing like this war happens again," England said.

He was trying to convince himself. Russia's allies thought it was very important that everything they did was right and justified. They were the heroes, as America kept insisting at every turn. And in the name of justice, they were willing to kill one of their own.

Prussia was still grinning at them, but there was a new gleam in his eyes that Russia immediately recognised. He had seen it on the eastern front and when his men had stormed to Berlin. It was anger, desperation, fear and pride – especially pride – all mixed together.

"Hah," Prussia chuckled hoarsely. "I guess you aren't such spineless cowards after all. Didn't think you'd have the guts to see everything to its end."

"Prussia..." Germany whispered to him.

"What?"

"Don't insult them. They won't really do it, but nothing good will follow if you keep pushing them."

"Too late for that. Take a look at that pansy France. They'll do it."

Germany turned his eyes from his brother to the council. "You can't do this. You can't kill him."

"We've already discussed this. It's not something we particularly enjoy doing –"

Russia chuckled jovially.

"–but it's what has to be done for the greater good. It's your own fault, so don't blame us," England said, repeating what they had all said to each other when they had been talking about the matter amongst themselves.

Germany shook his head, his eyes wide and desperate. "No, you can't do that! There has to be something else! I'll... I'll let you have more of my lands! I'll pay more reparations!"

"This matter isn't up for discussion anymore. We'll settle it right away," England said.

Russia guessed he was afraid that if they had to look at Germany's frightened and anguished face any longer, they might end up changing their minds after all. And that wouldn't do, would it?

England motioned for some of his soldiers to approach and grab Prussia's arms. At that moment, the first flash of fear appeared on Prussia's face, but he quickly tried to hide it behind his usual grin. It made him look twisted and broken, but he was still able to speak in a clear voice when he turned his head to address his brother.

"I guess that's that, then, West. Hope you learned at least something from me because I'll come back and haunt you if you end up being totally unawesome after this."

The soldiers started dragging Prussia away.

"No! Don't do this! Wait!"

Russia spent a moment watching the terrified look on Germany's face and listening to his screams, wondering if that was how the countless people his men had arrested, tortured and sent to the camps had looked and sounded like. He hoped Germany would learn his lesson.

Just as the soldiers were at the door, Russia stood up.

"Wait. I volunteer," he announced.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"What?" America asked. "What are you talking about?"

"I said that I volunteer. I want to kill him."

"We agreed that we'd let our men do it," England pointed out.

"You only suggested that because you're afraid of getting your hands bloody. I don't mind. I've actually been looking forward to this all this time," Russia said with a smile.

"But... what..." England stuttered, and Russia knew that the idea of one of them killing Prussia didn't sit so well with him. Too bad. That was going to be only the beginning of his discomfort.

"Oh, just let him do it! At least he'll get the job done," France said.

"Thank you for the confidence." Russia walked to where the soldiers were still holding Prussia and shooed them away, grabbing the former nation by his arm. Oh, it felt like he had lost some weight since the last time Russia had grabbed him. How unfortunate, but it was the way of the world that losers had less than winners.

Prussia said nothing, but he glared at him with such hate burning in his eyes that Russia simply didn't want to wait any longer to show him what surprises he had up his sleeve. Prussia would be so amazed, and so would everyone else.

"Wave goodbye to everyone," he said in a sing-song voice and shoved Prussia through the door, ignoring Germany's desperate cries behind them.

Russia had prepared the perfect place for his plan. Some of his most loyal men were waiting for them outside the building with a car. He pushed Prussia roughly on the backseat and went to sit with him. He gave the driver an order in Russian, and the car started moving.

"Hmm, it really has been a long time since we last spent any time together, hasn't it?" he asked after they had been driving in silence for a moment.

"Fuck you."

"Now that's not a very nice thing to say to me. But you've always been a little rude. Do you remember the Miracle of the House of Brandenburg? Even then you wouldn't thank me properly," Russia said.

"That had nothing to do with you. The stupid bitch died, and you were just following the orders of your new boss."

"Don't talk about my royalty like that."

Prussia laughed. "Why not? You don't even have any anymore. And why is that, huh? Murdered, all of them, and you're following their killers' orders like – "

There was a smack, and Prussia flew against the car door.

"I'm sorry, but I will have to hit you when you say things like that."

"What does it matter?" Prussia asked, wiping the corner of his mouth. "It's all going to end soon anyway, right?"

"That's right," Russia agreed.

Just then, the car turned a corner, and they arrived at an open space between two destroyed buildings. They were near the edges of the city at a spot that had been hit by a bomb and hadn't been rebuilt yet. In the midst of the ruins of the once mighty Germany was a wonderful place for an execution.

Russia got out of the car first and walked around it to open the door for Prussia.

"Beautiful place, isn't it?" he asked pleasantly.

"As good as any," Prussia drawled, his hands in his pockets as he eyed the scenery. "So, what now?"

"Now my men grab you so that you won't try to run away," Russia said.

He snapped his fingers, and the men immediately caught Prussia's arms and held him in place. Panic flashed briefly in Prussia's eyes, and Russia knew he was trying to decide if he should fight back like a warrior or take his death with dignity. It was a tough decision, so Russia was sure Prussia would appreciate that he was going to take it off his hands.

Prussia chuckled, but his arrogant demeanor was ruined by his suddenly shaky breathing. "And now?" he asked. "Going to shoot me in the head and be done with it?"

"No," Russia said happily. "Your men didn't want to waste ammunition when fighting against mine and would bludgeon them to death instead. I don't think it would be very fair of me to give you such an easy death."

He saw Prussia's muscles tense and knew that at that moment, he had made up his mind and wouldn't go down without a struggle.

"Oh, so that's the game you want to play? Your men could fight back! At least give me that!" Prussia snapped.

"Begging already, hm?"

"Fuck you, you Russian bastard! Tell your damn lapdogs to let go and I'll show you how easy it'll be to kill me!"

Russia smiled as he watched Prussia struggle in his men's hold, how his face had grown flushed and his eyes desperate and angry. He was bearing his teeth and panting through his mouth. He was like a wounded animal that had been driven to a corner and that knew the end was near.

Quite pathetic but such a lovely sight. Russia spent one more moment admiring all the emotions that Prussia was normally too proud to show.

"Fortunately for you, I'm not going to bludgeon you to death. I'm not very happy with the way America and the others decided to get rid of you when there's still use for you," he said.

He took a step closer and caught Prussia's chin with a gloved hand and forced his head higher so that it had to be uncomfortable. "You're a little rough around the edges, but I'm sure we can come to an agreement that'll benefit us both."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Let's make a few things clear first, alright? First, the others want you dead. I don't. That is why I won't kill you. However, you can't go back because then America and the rest would think I did a poor job and would get someone else to kill you. I rather like my reputation, so we can't have that. Are you following me?"

Prussia didn't reply, but Russia didn't care and kept going.

"That means your only chance to live is with me. I know you don't like me very much, but I'm sure we can change that and learn to get along. Especially since you really have no other choice," he said and stopped there to let Prussia mull over his words.

"I think you can let go now," he said to the soldiers who immediately obeyed and retreated. For a moment, Russia didn't know if Prussia would be able to stand on his own after the surprise, so he was prepared to catch him if needed.

"Are you saying you won't kill me?" Prussia asked.

"I thought I said that already."

"Fuck you! You goddamn asshole! What the hell was all that about, then? Why did you let me think you were going to – Shit, I hate you!"

Prussia's eyes were afire with fury, and his whole body reminded Russia of a beast that was ready to attack. He supposed it was understandable that he'd be a little upset, so he wasn't going to be angry about that.

"I wanted to have a little fun first. I really liked that look on your face. I thought you might cry," he said. He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He offered them to Prussia.

Prussia stared at them in suspicion but then took one. He brought it to his lips with a shaky hand and glared expectantly at Russia.

"Got fire?"

"Sure."

Russia didn't like smoking, so he let Prussia have both the cigarettes and the lighter. He watched how the hand holding the cigarette trembled and how pale Prussia looked now that his anger was mostly gone.

"Would you like to sit down?" Russia suggested.

For a moment, Prussia looked undecided, but then his pride won.

"No." He took one more puff of the cigarette before tossing it to the ground and stomping on it. "And now you're going to cut it with the crap and tell me exactly what's going on here."

"Where do you want me to start?"

"First you could tell me why you let me live. Don't tell me you did it just because you're such a bleeding heart."

Russia hummed in irritation at Prussia's accusing tone. He really wasn't in the position to talk to him like that. Where was his gratitude, his relief and joy? Russia had been so looking forward to them.

"I have several reasons. I don't like it that the others wanted to kill you. It's ugly. We aren't supposed to do that to each other," he said.

Prussia snorted. "Didn't take you for such a softie."

"I want to get along with everyone. Even those who say they hate me. It's just a matter of perspective, and I'm sure everyone will become my friend in the future," Russia said. "In fact, that's where you're going to help me."

"Oh, so now the demands start. Should have known. Okay, let's hear it. What the hell do you want?"

"Your brother's lands are divided into occupation zones now, but it won't be forever. Sooner or later, the others will let him have his own government again, but they will keep an eye on him. I don't want to give up my zone and let it become part of a capitalist country where America can do whatever he wants. When the time is right, my zone will become an independent country, and I'll need someone to represent it," Russia explained.

Prussia's expression had grown sourer by the word. He spat at his feet when Russia was finished.

"So, you want me to turn against my brother and become a communist asshole like you? Fat chance!"

"What else can you do? If you go back to the others, they'll execute you as a fascist. There isn't anyone in Europe who would take you in. Only me. But I won't do it for free." Russia softened his tone and offered Prussia an encouraging smile. "Besides, don't you want to be a nation again?"

Greed flashed in Prussia's eyes, and Russia knew that even if the idea of going against his brother sickened him, it was tempting.

"You shouldn't feel too sorry for Germany. He got himself into this mess. He got you into it. Without him and his boss, you might not have lost anything. Maybe Königsberg would still be yours."

Ah, that was like twisting a knife in the wound.

"But you could have Berlin."

"And Potsdam."

"Yes," Russia agreed readily.

"And lands and people and... But I don't trust you. I'd be nothing but your puppet. I'm too awesome for that. Nope. Won't do it."

Such stubbornness, Russia thought in annoyance. If everyone was like that, it would take him forever to convince the world that they should accept his friendship.

"You don't have any choice. Either you join me or I'll tell the others that I got cold feet and couldn't kill you after all. I'm sure England's soldiers will be happy to shoot another fascist like you. Or maybe France will send his men to do it. They'll be even more blood-thirsty, I'd imagine."

Prussia gritted his teeth and glared at him in defiance, but Russia was sure he knew that his words were the truth. He could imagine the clockwork in Prussia's mind turning. Maybe he thought that if he accepted for now, he could change his mind later. The poor fool had no idea that soon enough, he wouldn't even want to have anything to do with his brother and former friends again.

"If I say yes, what then? Can I tell the others I'm still alive and kicking, or do I have to hide in your closet for the rest of eternity or what?" Prussia asked.

"Later. Right now is not a good time for that."

"I want to tell West."

"I said later. It will do your brother good to feel at least a fraction of what he has made others feel and know that your death was his fault."

"You fucking sadist," Prussia growled.

Russia smiled. "I think I'm being quite merciful. Without me, he'd lose his big brother. I'm sure he'll thank me one day." He hummed, as if something had only then crossed his mind. "But we can talk more later and have some vodka and tea. Now I have some other business to attend to, and I have to drop by my lodgings first to get a new coat."

"Why?"

"Because this one got all messy when I killed you."

Prussia cringed, and Russia gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Life with me won't be as bad as you think. You'll learn to like it."

They got back into the car that drove them to where Russia was staying for his time in Berlin. He gave the men the instructions to take Prussia away to a secure location where the wrong people wouldn't see him and then dropped by his room to pull a new coat over his form.

He was certain that the others were still at the conference room. They wouldn't dare leave before he came back and told them that the job was done. And that was what he would do. Time to teach his despicable western allies a lesson.

"I'm back," Russia announced when he pushed the doors open and stepped into the room.

"What in God's name took you so long? You were gone for an hour!" England raged.

"I'm sorry. I had to get changed. My coat got a little stained."

"Stained?" France repeated.

Russia offered him his sweetest smile. "Yes. I thought I could finish him with just one bullet, but I'm afraid my aim wasn't very good, and I missed. I could only blow off his jaw. I didn't have my pipe with me, so I took this rock and -"

"Okay, stop! We don't need to hear the details!" America snapped.

"It doesn't matter how it happened, does it? This is what you all wanted. To wipe Prussia off the map for good."

With that, Russia took his place among the others. He smiled at Germany in a way that he was sure was reassuring, but the poor man was in so much shock that he didn't even seem to notice Russia's friendly gesture. Oh, well.

"So, he's dead," America stated somewhat nervously. He had been the least eager to do this, but pressure from his older allies had eventually made him give in. He hadn't had the heart to say no to Poland, France and the others who had suffered so much and had wanted to see blood spilled.

"Yes. You should have been there. His crying was most amusing." Russia turned towards France. "He said that he didn't blame you. That he would see you as a friend to the very end and that he understood why you decided to do this."

France paled and looked like he might be sick. "You lie," he snarled.

"Why would I? I didn't like him any more than you did. I'm just sharing his last words with you all."

"Fine," France said, slitting his eyes. "If that's what he said, fine. Easy for him to take the high ground when he's pushed into a corner. It doesn't change what he and his brother did to me. To all of Europe."

"Pity," Russia said. "I thought you might have had a little more sympathy, especially since Vichy –"

Everyone turned to look when Germany suddenly collapsed against the table at which he was sitting and buried his face into his hands. A sob shook him, and for a moment the other nations could do no more than watch him break down. Even Russia was surprised into silence. Germany hadn't cried like that even right after the war.

England cleared his throat awkwardly. "Right. I think we're just about done with our business this time. Another meeting next week, am I right?"

"Yeah," America said forlornly.

The others didn't want to talk to Germany. They weren't even looking at him anymore, not even France who had been so vengeful when the meeting had started. Russia had no problems watching Germany sob against the table, but unlike the others, his heart wasn't being crushed by guilt.

Quite the contrary. Things were developing exactly like he had planned.

* * *

America fidgeted with the chocolate bar in his hands. He had been saving it since breakfast because even though he and his men had candy and cigarettes and other nice things, they didn't have so many of them that he could gorge on chocolate the way he was used to. But now his appetite was gone, and he was sure that if he as much as nibbled on the bar, he'd throw up.

What they had done was wrong. He had known it in the pit of his stomach ever since the idea had first been proposed. Killing one of their own was never the solution. There weren't so many of them in the first place, so they should have stuck together as much as they could. If they started killing each other, their coming centuries would just keep getting lonelier.

Now granted, he had been pretty damn angry during and right after the war, too. The things he had seen were atrocious, and he was sure that wasn't even the beginning. But compared to his allies, America was a young nation. He was already full of hope for the future. The war was over, and now was the time to re-build and heal.

"Man, I can't eat this today," he muttered and finally shoved the chocolate back into his pocket. That goddamn commie bastard had totally ruined the day. Okay, they had all agreed to execute Prussia, but had it really been necessary to volunteer and then be so gruesome about getting the job done? It was sick.

Furthermore, all of this made him feel like he was suddenly... well, not the villain of the story, of course, but not the hero he wanted to be either. This just wasn't his style. He would have much rather worked things out with Prussia and let him rebuild Germany with his brother. Germany had to be strong if they wanted to stop Russia from spreading his stupid ideology westwards in Europe.

America sighed. That wasn't going to be easy now. Germany would hate them for a long time for what they had done. He could understand that. If someone did to Canada what Russia had done to Prussia... America wasn't sure what he'd do, but it wouldn't be pretty.

He turned around and decided to go and hang around with his soldiers to get his mind off what had happened that day. However, he didn't make it further than behind the corner when he almost walked into France.

"Oh, hey, sorry! Didn't know you were still here," America said.

"I came looking for you."

"Okay. What can I do for you?"

France frowned and glanced to his side. "Do you still have the half a bottle of booze from last week?"

"Yeah, not much time to drink these days. Why? I thought you didn't like it."

"I don't. I..." France drifted off and gave America a glance that was probably supposed to be meaningful, but America had to admit he had no idea what France wanted. Heck, he had complained so loudly about his American liquor and said that he'd never pour it down his throat even if his life depended on it.

"Can I just have it?" France asked, sounding impatient.

"Sure, but why?"

"I think I'm going to need it tonight."

It was as if a light bulb had been turned on in America's head. "Oh! I get it! It's because of... what Russia did, right?"

"What we did," France emphasized.

America frowned in confusion. France's voice had been the loudest when the demands for the execution had been made. Maybe he was having second thoughts already.

"Yeah, can't really disagree with that. It sucks," he said. He paused to think. "Do you regret it?"

"No," France said at once. "I don't. He had it coming. Now matter how we feel about it, what we did was right."

"Okay, how _do _you feel about it? Because I'm kind of feeling like a jerk. And I can't help but think that rebuilding Germany would be easier if we had another pair of hands to help. And maybe Germany would be more co-operative if we hadn't, you know, beaten his brother to death with a rock."

France's frown deepened, and America noticed only now how tired he looked. And even more alarming, not a single line of innuendo had passed France's lips.

"Can I have the booze or not?" France asked in irritation.

"Sure, but you'll have to make a trip to my lodgings."

"Doesn't matter. I have a car."

They went outside and got into France's car. America leaned back on the front seat while France drove, looking at the buildings and ruins they passed on their way.

"What do you think Germany is doing right now?" America asked.

"I don't know."

"Man, he's probably really upset. I'd be trying to tear down the whole world if someone did that to Canada. Or England since he's the one who raised me and all that, so maybe that's a more appropriate comparison."

France said nothing. They drove in silence for a while. America tried to not let it bother him, but he was growing bored, and he was still feeling a little uneasy about the whole deal.

"Do you think it took long?" he asked.

"What?"

"When Russia killed him. I mean, we nations are pretty sturdy. I hear England once had his stomach blown off and lived. I wonder how long Russia had to be at it before –"

"Oh, shut up! Why are you talking about that?"

"I don't know. Why do you need my booze?"

France's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "This is not the best moment for you to develop a sharp eye for things like these!"

"Hey, just asking. It's my last bottle, and it could be a while before I get more, you know. But you can have it if you need to forget about Prussia and how he died because of our actions."

"You're vile. You don't have a shred of sensitivity in you," France muttered.

"It would be a lot easier if you guys were more straightforward about what you want and why."

They spoke no more before they reached the building where all the Allies were staying during their time in Berlin. America let France into his room and took the bottle from under his bed. He handed it to France, but instead of leaving, the other nation stared at the bottle in his hands for a long time before raising his eyes.

"Do you want to share it?" he asked.

Agreeing to have a drink with France in his room was usually a recipe for disaster, but America could tell that France was pretty desperate for company, even if it was just getting drunk and talking. And to be honest, he'd rather get rid of the rather vivid mental images he had stuck in his head due to Russia's words.

"Sure," he agreed.

* * *

When Russia came to visit him in the building where his men had taken him, he brought a beautiful silver samovar with him. He placed it on the table between them and asked him if he knew how to use it. When Prussia said yes, Russia took a seat and told him to make some tea for them.

Prussia was anxious to ask what had happened at the conference, but he decided to use the chance to calm his nerves and observe the nation he would be living with from now on. He couldn't say he was looking forward to it. At all. He didn't agree with Russia's ideology, and what he had seen in the countries under his influence hadn't been pretty. Maybe communism or socialism or whatever it was worked for some people, but Prussia didn't count himself among them.

But it was better than death. He wasn't stupid. He knew he had to try to swallow his pride, at least for now, and just go along if he ever wanted to see Germany again. It wouldn't take too long. He'd ditch this asshole the first chance he got.

"So, what happened?" he asked once the water was boiling.

"I told everyone that you're dead."

"And?"

Russia chuckled. "I think they were a little shocked to hear what a bloody, violent death you suffered. Even France looked guilty."

"Well, yeah, he should be," Prussia muttered. That back-stabbing traitor. This wasn't the first time the two of them went on a rampage in each other's countries, so what the heck had crawled up his ass this time around? They had never demanded for each other's death before.

Russia produced nice porcelain cups from somewhere in the depths of his coat.

"What about West?"

"Your brother took it very badly, I'm afraid. He was crying, and someone had to escort him out of the room." Russia handed one of the cups to Prussia. It had dancing bears painted on it. "He's probably going to blame himself."

Damn, Prussia thought and felt something tug at his heart. Nobody had the right to make his kid brother cry.

"I want to call him," he said.

"I already told you that you can't. You're going to be my little secret until I'm ready to declare my zone an independent country. Once you have the status of a real nation again, the others can't demand for your death without causing a bigger conflict than they can afford."

"The others don't have to hear about it. I just want to let West know! Come on, you can't expect me to just sit here twiddling my thumbs while my brother thinks I'm dead!"

These words caused no change on Russia's smiling face. Fuck it, if he couldn't appeal to his sympathy, maybe some common sense would get through to him.

"I mean, how do you expect him to rebuild his country if he's that upset? He's going to make a mess of it, and that leaves him vulnerable and –" He never finished because a sudden thought crossed his mind. "Bastard. So that's what this is all about."

"It's just a fortunate side effect, I assure you. What I really wanted was to have someone represent my new country and to save your life. Please take my word for that. I would have saved even America even though I can't stand him."

Prussia snorted. "Yeah, right. But this is going to backfire on you like you wouldn't believe. I raised West. Yeah, he's upset now, but once he gets over it, he's going to rebuild Germany into the best country in the world." Now that there was no Prussia anymore, at least, he thought with a stab of regret.

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"Why should it bother me?"

Russia leaned over to take a look at their tea. Deeming it ready, he picked up the pan from atop the samovar and filled their cups with steaming black tea.

"If he wants to rebuild his country, he's going to have to work together with the Allies. The people who wanted you dead. Is it alright with you that your brother accepts their ideology, makes friends with them and forgives them, all the while thinking they're responsible for your death?" he asked.

Prussia gritted his teeth. No, that wasn't alright with him. Germany shouldn't associate with those assholes any more than was necessary. However, he had no choice.

"West has to think of his people. If you think you can make me hate him just because he's doing what is necessary, think again. I'm old enough to know how the world works," he said with a chuckle, and he was pretty darn proud of himself for making it sound convincing.

"I'm glad. Then you'll have no problem with the fact that your brother and the Allies probably won't take well to your new country and will see you as an enemy," Russia said pleasantly.

"We'll see about that when it comes to it," Prussia said. When he was a nation again, he could do whatever he wanted. He'd just switch sides and... end up allied with the people who had wanted him dead. Damn, not cool. Well, he had time to think of a better plan. Maybe the Nordics needed a sixth member.

Russia took a sip of his tea, seemingly immune to how hot it was. "But it's always possible that your brother hates them instead. Maybe he'll join me in a year or two."

"Yeah, not fucking likely. You're the one who gave me a bloody and violent death, remember?"

"Yes, but once I let him know you're still alive, I'm sure he will be very, very grateful. I wouldn't be surprised if he decided that accepting my generous friendship would be the best option for him and his country."

Prussia chose not to answer. Russia's smile was suddenly so sweet that it made him a little ill.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to everyone who reviewed!

**ALL ACCORDING TO PLAN**

**Chapter 2**

Germany pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pounding headache that came from reading for too long in bad light. Maybe he should have asked if he could have a better lamp, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He never asked for anything for himself these days.

It was December 1948. Over a year had passed since his brother had died, and he still had a hard time believing it. It was as if he could feel it in his bones that Prussia was still there, somewhere.

When he was tired like this or not yet properly awake after his short nights of sleep, he kept expecting to hear him tell his crude jokes, feel cold water being poured into his bed or something equally irritating. He had used to yell at Prussia for those things, but now he missed him so much that he would have given anything to have him play a prank on him again. Just seeing him one more time would have been enough. He hadn't even been able to say goodbye.

The writing on the document before him turned blurry and even more difficult to read. Germany gritted his teeth and wiped angrily at his eyes. He was so weak and selfish.

He had no right to cry. He had brought this upon himself. It was all his fault. The Allies hadn't murdered his brother; he had. He deserved this. All his fault.

There were countless people in the world who were hurting more, who had lost more loved ones. All because of him and his war. What he was feeling couldn't even begin to measure up to what it was like to see your family wither away at the camps, watch your husband be arrested and know that it was the last time you ever saw him or have all your sons go to war and never come back.

He couldn't allow himself to think about Prussia. There was too much work to do, too much to rebuild and too much to pay for.

His country was still being governed by foreign forces, but he had already been told that it would end some time the following year. Then it would be time to stand on his own feet again. Germany was of course happy that he would have a country of his own once more, but a part of him couldn't help but think that he didn't deserve it. Another was frightened that history would just repeat itself.

He closed his eyes for a moment and pushed away the papers he was supposed to be reading. It was impossible to concentrate when he was this tired. He had better go to bed. He was supposed to meet France the following day to hear what he had to say about the limits to Germany's production levels. Maybe they'd talk about the Saar as well, but the mere thought made Germany's headache worse.

He didn't sleep well – he rarely did these days – but he felt considerably better and didn't think France noticed anything as they discussed the matters at hand. The Allies wanted to control the coal and steel industry in the Ruhr Area in turn for allowing him to establish the Federal Republic of Germany.

Germany didn't complain about a single word that France said. He knew his people wouldn't be happy to have their industry controlled by foreign forces, but this was the only way. It would be a long and difficult road but one that they had no choice but to follow.

It took him a moment to realise that France had grown silent. Germany couldn't recall him asking a question or saying anything that would require his input.

"Was there something else?" he asked.

"I'm just thinking for a bit," France replied.

Germany chose not to respond. He had no idea how to feel about France these days. This was the man who had demanded for his brother's death. He was also the man whose lands Germany had invaded three times in recent history.

The part of Germany that was emotional wanted to punch France and scream at him for what he had done, but the logical part knew that he had no right to complain and that it was his actions that had doomed Prussia. What France and the others had done had been just the rightful consequences. Since Germany preferred logic and reason over emotions, especially now that he was hurting so much that giving in to his feelings would have killed him, he knew that staying calm and co-operative was the only proper course of action.

And so he waited, hands clasped and sitting straight, until France was ready to talk again.

"I don't... I'm not sure what to say."

"Is there something unclear about the demands?"

France shook his head. "I'm finished with the official business, but there's another reason I came to see you."

"I see."

"Let's get one thing straight first. My people are devastated and furious about what has been done to them, and it'll be a long time before my country can trust yours. As far as they're concerned, no amount of reparations can be enough," France said, his tone vicious and biting.

Germany lowered his eyes to his hands. It was all true. Maybe he'd never able to pay enough for what he and his people had done.

"I know," he said.

"But I'm a nation. I should be able to see past such things. It's not easy for me to admit in this situation, but I think I was momentarily blinded by my feelings of hatred and hurt. And then there was Vichy, so it's not like my people were all innocent either."

Germany clenched his hands into fists, not liking where this was going. France's words threatened to unearth his vulnerabilities that he had worked so hard to hide.

"Is this about the Saar?" he asked.

"You know it isn't. It's about Prussia."

"I don't want to talk about him." He _couldn't_ talk about him, not now when the wound was still so fresh and when it was of utmost importance that he could give his everything to his country and people. His feelings as a person and a brother would have to come second.

"I can understand that. I only wanted to let you know that I'm sorry about my contribution to –"

God, did France have to keep talking about that? Germany didn't want to hear this; he couldn't allow himself to think back to that day and how the last he had seen of his brother was his back before the door was closed and –

"– to his death. It probably doesn't mean anything to you, but I've had time to think. I've realised we had no right to do what we did. Prussia would have never –"

– then there had been that horrible hour when they had waited nervously for Russia to come back. Germany had begged the others to go after him and stop him before it was too late. Part of him had clung to the hope that it was all a horrible joke the others were playing on him. But no. His brother was dead.

"– done that to any of us. We all failed as nations that day. I'm truly sorry."

Germany stared at France in silence. He had the feeling that for the first time since the end of the war, France felt awkward and meek in his presence. In any other circumstances, he might have indulged in some sick thirst for revenge for what he was being forced to endure.

"You're sorry," he said flatly. "My brother had his face blown off and was beaten to death, and you tell me you're sorry?"

He had no right to be angry, he tried to remind himself. What some of his people had done only a few years ago was much worse. It wasn't France's fault that Prussia was dead, not really. It was because he had believed a madman and led his country to a horrible war. It was his fault.

"Why did you not kill me? You could have taken my lands and given them to Prussia. I am to blame more for everything," he said, sounding tired even in his own ears.

France shifted uncomfortably on his seat.

"Answer me. The idea must have crossed your minds."

"It did, but we didn't think it would work. In our favour, I mean," France said. He couldn't quite meet Germany's eyes as he continued. "Prussia was centuries old. He had once led a mighty kingdom. If we had killed you and tried to make him take over your position, he would have been furious and started an even more terrible war against us. We thought it would be easier to deal with you because you're so much younger."

"You mean I'm easier for you to control."

France's silence was as good as a yes.

Germany closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, trying to hold back the hurt and guilt that threatened to overcome him.

"It probably wouldn't have worked anyway," he heard France say.

"He lived through his dissolution. Don't you think there was a reason he didn't die?"

France sighed. "If there was, it's too late to think about it now."

"Believe me, I know that. Better than any of you," Germany growled. "Is there still something you wanted to say? I still have a lot of work to do today."

"I don't think it's healthy for you to suppress your feelings like that. If you want to, you can –"

"I'm not suppressing anything!" Germany snapped. "And even if I were, what makes you think I would ever want to talk about it with you?"

To his credit, France didn't wince at his words. "Heaven knows there's still too much to patch up between our countries before I'll offer you a shoulder to cry on. I was speaking generally."

"Then you can show yourself out. I think we're done with our business for now."

"Don't get over-confident. We're in Mainz. This my occupation zone, and you don't have a government yet," France said, but he did get up. He gave Germany a long, seething look as he spent a moment fixing the jacket of his suit before marching past him and exiting the room.

Germany let out a long sigh and leaned back on his chair. He felt drained. He forced himself to breath steadily and lifted a hand to rub his eyes, trying to ignore how it was shaking. Don't think about France. Just breathe. Don't think about Prussia. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

After a while, he was sure the air in the room became heavy. It tasted of dust and loss, and it made his throat dry and threatened to choke him. He had to get out. He couldn't work like this.

He staggered up to his feet and left the room, not sure where he was going but knowing that he had to.

* * *

Germany didn't know if it was a coincidence or if something inside him had brought him there on purpose, but some time later he found himself standing before the Mainz Cathedral. Or what remained of it. It had been hit in the bombings and parts of it had been completely destroyed. Looking at the once gorgeous building was like brushing against a scar on his chest, but he didn't want to turn away.

He wasn't sure what it was about Mainz that appealed to him so. He always felt like he had come home after a long trip when was in the city. Even though he loved every one of his cities, he didn't have such a connection with all of them. Mainz had a long history and had been there long before Germany had come to exist, and yet it felt so very much his.

Shaking his head, he approached the ruins. He would restore the cathedral, cost it what it may. But he'd think about that later. Now he only wanted a moment of peace and the chance to forget the weight on his shoulders.

He found a large piece of stone that had once been part of the building and sat down on it, leaning his back against the burnt wall behind him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then another and another until he felt his tired body begin to relax.

He was so exhausted. His country was in ruins and not under his control. His people were frightened and angry. He had so much to pay for, but right now it felt like trying to stop a raging fire with a bucket that had a hole in it. It was hopeless, and he deserved to carry the hate of the entire world.

It would have been easier if Prussia had been there. His brother would have grumbled about all the work they had to do, cursed the Allies to hell and been generally unproductive, but at least he would have been there. Prussia had raised him and guided him. Even after Germany had become a real nation and Prussia only a free state, he had always been able to count on his brother having his back.

Now he'd have to make it alone. It was a daunting task. He'd never again hear Prussia laugh at him for wanting to keep everything as organized as possible. Prussia would never surprise him with beer after a long day at work. They'd never again fight over the newspaper or which record to play.

Half of Prussia's favourite group had fled to America because of him and he'd never hear them perform live again. He didn't even have their records anymore. He had destroyed them in a fit of pride and patriotism when the group had been added to the list of banned artists. Prussia hadn't spoken to him in a week. Somehow, that memory struck him as more vivid than any of the others, and he had to clench his eyes shut more tightly.

Everything had gone so wrong. He had been so blind. It was useless torture to think back to those days and wonder how he could have let all that happen, but he couldn't help it. Maybe it was just right that he had to face the consequences alone without the support of his brother. This was a lesson he would remember to his last day; he would never make mistakes like that again.

But no matter how hard he tried to justify the Allies' decision to himself, his emotions refused to fade away. He had lost his brother! His brother who had taught him to ride, shoot and shave, had given him his first dog and then comforted him because animals weren't immortal. He could understand the Allies' actions as a nation, but as a person he wanted to give in and cry.

Prussia would laugh at him and tell him that he had raised him better, that he shouldn't act like a little girl. Then he'd pat him on the back and say that alright, maybe it was fine this one time as long as he didn't make a habit out of it and –

He couldn't hold back anymore. Even if it had been his fault and even if he deserved this pain, he wanted to cry for his brother and for himself without letting politics into it. There was nobody to see him now, surely he could be allowed to have that?

He missed his brother and wanted him back! It hurt to think about him; it hurt to breathe when he knew he'd never see him again.

Germany let out a choked sob and buried his face into his hands as the tears he had been holding back finally flowed.

* * *

"Well, dude! Welcome back to the nations club!"

America gave him a pat to the back and laughed, and Germany couldn't help but respond with a smile. It was May 1949, and he finally had a government of his own again. Even though his country still had to be rebuilt, at least it was his country again. There was still the question of the Soviet occupation zone, but Germany was hopeful that it would be added to his lands sooner or later. He wanted all of Berlin back.

He felt strong, and he finally had the feeling that there was some hope for him. He would rebuild. He would shed the horrible past off his shoulders and create a new Germany that was peaceful, diplomatic and respected. One day he'd stand among his fellow nations without having to be ashamed of himself.

"Thank you," he said, touched by America's enthusiasm. England and France weren't equally happy about this development, but they had given in and let him found a country once more. The Federal Republic of Germany. It sounded wonderful.

Of course, the foreign presence in his country wouldn't disappear. The Allies would be watching over him and his people, but now that he was no longer an occupied nation, it didn't feel like such a burden.

"We'll see how it goes," England said.

Germany nodded. Swearing that he wouldn't repeat his past mistakes would be pointless. That much was a given or they would have never let this happen.

"Now if the commie just stopped being so stubborn and gave up his share. But no, it looks like he has made himself homey and is just sitting on his fat ass over there," America said. "Man, I wish I could just bomb the shit out of him to make him leave."

"That wouldn't solve anything," England said in an exasperated tone.

"And easy for you to suggest something like that when the new war wouldn't be right at your doorstep. Excuse us if we want to enjoy peace for a moment," France added.

Germany felt that his country had already been bombed enough, but he didn't dare say that out loud. He partly agreed with America. Russia's presence in the eastern part of his lands bothered him. He didn't feel whole.

"Well, no matter! Somehow we'll drive him back to where he came from and purge the world from his ridiculous ideology. No way am I letting him threaten everyone's freedom! Right, Germany? You're my backup buddy in this, okay?"

"I don't have an army," Germany reminded him.

A disappointed look crossed America's face. "Oh, right. I forgot. But you can help me in spirit. I mean, you're the last defence between us and the commie, so make sure he doesn't corrupt your people with his ideas or anything."

"I'll... do my best."

"Great! But enough about politics! Let's all have a toast!"

America hurried to the table and filled four glasses which he promptly shoved into everyone's hands. He proposed a toast to the new Germany, and they all sipped their drinks. Germany still felt awkward around the others, but he was hopeful that it wouldn't last forever.

It didn't take long before America said something stupid that prompted England to begin lecturing at him. It left Germany and France alone.

France offered him a wry smile. "I don't think I've yet congratulated you personally. Good luck to your new country."

"Thank you."

"I hope it'll go better than last time."

Germany chose to take a sip of his drink rather than answer. Everything he and France had said to each other during the past half a year had been strictly business. They had never again discussed Prussia, much to his relief, but he wished there had been at least something casual in their relationship so that he would now know what to say.

Thankfully, France decided to take the decision off his hands. The smile on his face grew a tad warmer.

"I suppose we can't hate each other forever. We'll have to work together if we want anything to come out of this, the world situation being what it is," he said.

"I would greatly appreciate it if our relations grew friendlier."

"Just make sure you choose your boss wisely."

Germany winced. His last boss had certainly been a catastrophe.

"I will," he promised. He wanted Adenauer. The man was west-oriented, and right now that was the best direction for his country to take.

"Then everything will be fabulous, I'm sure."

"I hope so."

Germany wished his brother could have been there with him that day. He doubted the ache would ever fully go away, but he was practical by nature and knew that no amount of crying would bring Prussia back. He had to move on, not just for the sake of his country and people but his own as well.

And he would have to work together with the people who had ordered Prussia's death. He was almost ashamed to admit that it didn't feel as difficult as it should have. His anger was directed at Russia. It was so much easier to hate him than those who were helping him, who would hopefully become his allies in the future.

Russia was the one who had killed Prussia. His hand had fired the shot, picked up the rock and –

His emotions must have shown on his face because France shot a worried look at him.

"Something wrong?"

"No, nothing."

Bringing Prussia up now would ruin everything. Everyone was finally happy and talking of a better future, not past crimes or war. The past few years had felt like an eternity. Germany needed and wanted hope.

* * *

Prussia was staring out of the window of his small apartment in Leipzig. There were ruins as far as he could see with a couple of surviving buildings standing there like rotting teeth. His hands were itching to do something about that, to rebuild and create, but Russia had told him to stay put.

"Doing anything to draw attention to yourself too soon would ruin everything, hm?" Prussia muttered, mimicking the other nation's voice.

That was why he was living like a rat, moving regularly from place to place. Russia said it was so that he'd develop a better connection with his people and lands, but Prussia was sure the bastard just enjoyed giving him orders and telling him where to move his ass next.

As far as he was concerned, it didn't really matter where he was. It was shitty everywhere. The cities lay in ruins. Russia had had the nerve to take the factories apart and move them to his country, like he had some fucking right to do that. The people were nervous; they didn't like the Soviet occupation and would have rather had someone else, especially the Americans, in power.

This was not the kind of country Prussia wanted to represent. He was meant for better things. That was why he loathed how he could do nothing but sit on his ass and watch. He wanted to be in charge. He wanted to be a nation again as soon as possible and start doing something to improve this shithole.

And most importantly, he wanted to pick up the phone and call his brother. It was almost two years since he had last seen him. He listened to the radio whenever he had the rare chance, read the newspaper and talked to people who might know something, but it wasn't the same as hearing Germany's voice and seeing with his own eyes that he was fine.

He should have been there to kick some sense into the Allies if they were giving his kid brother a hard time. He was needed there, Prussia was sure of it. But nope, he was stuck here, unable to do anything but wait.

As if on cue, the door was pushed open. Prussia didn't bother turning around to greet his guest. There was only one person who'd visit him anyway.

"I have some wonderful news for you," Russia said happily as he stepped into the room.

"Yeah, like what?"

"Your brother has finally got a country of his own again."

Prussia whirled around so fast that he nearly fell off the chair.

"What?" he croaked. Sure, he had known it would happen and that it would be soon. He hadn't known the exact date, though, and that had made it somehow easy to push the issue aside and not think too much about it.

"My man in west just called me and said that everything was settled only moments ago." Russia took a seat on Prussia bed and looked at him for a long time, waiting for his reaction. "Well? Aren't you happy for your brother?"

Of course he was. No question about it. But... but his kid brother was suddenly a nation again while he was nothing. He hated the jealousy that burned inside him and how bitter it tasted, so he tried to focus on something else.

"What are you smiling about?" he snarled.

"Oh, I don't mind that Germany is a nation again. Especially since it's much better than having my troublesome allies control everything in his country."

"Don't get too cocky. West will never join you."

Russia chuckled. "We'll see about that. Even if he doesn't, I'll still have you, won't I?"

Prussia crossed his arms on his chest and sulked. "I'm not even a nation. Not that I'm not the best anyway, but seriously, what do you want?"

"I want to have an ally who will help me make the rest of the world see that my way is the best way."

"Your way sucks."

Russia hummed in a way that Prussia had learned showed that he was irritated. In the past he might not have given a damn about Russia's mood, but after spending nearly two years completely relying on him, he had truly started to enjoy pissing him off. He liked to think that getting away with it without Russia smashing his face in proved that he was still important, but somewhere deep down he had the hunch that Russia just let him get away with it because he was no real threat to him anymore.

"You'll learn to like it when you're a nation again."

"Yeah, and when's that gonna happen?"

"Soon. There are only a few technicalities to take care of. What kind of name would you like to have?"

"How about Prussia's Kingdom of Win?"

"I was thinking that The German Democratic Republic has a very nice ring to it."

Prussia made a disgusted face. He couldn't walk around with a name like that. It was too much like his brother's, and he didn't care to be known as the second Germany. Everyone would keep calling his brother Germany, so where did that leave him? Being shortened to GDR or something crappy like that wasn't cool.

"I want something more original," he said.

"I think it's very good," Russia said, and when he used that tone, everyone either agreed or cried and agreed.

"It can be that in the documents. But I'm not letting anyone call me that to my face, okay? I'm Prussia."

"No," Russia said with a sunny smile. "I'll think of a good nickname for you later."

Yeah, and I have lots of great ideas about what I'll be calling you when I no longer have to grovel at your feet, Prussia thought. As soon as he had a country of his own, he'd go and join his brother and they could both have a half of Germany to represent. That was the best solution; that way they'd both get to be nations.

Man, he couldn't wait to see the look on Germany's face when he found out that he was still alive. Not just because it was guaranteed to give him all the attention in the room but because he missed him. He imagined it had to be twice as bad for Germany who thought he was dead – and because Prussia was the best brother in the world, so of course Germany had to be devastated.

"I hope you won't disappoint me when you become a nation again. The people in my occupation zone aren't very happy. Many of them want to leave. You must build a country that is better than your brother's," Russia said.

"That'll be easy." Yeah, it was going to be a piece of cake. Someone with his experience and level of awesomeness couldn't possibly fail at that. The German Democratic Republic might have a really shitty name, but it was going to be the best country in the world.

"Good. Because I would hate to think that I saved your life for nothing and that it really would have been more productive to smash your head with a rock."

"Getting rid of someone like me would have been total waste, you know."

"We'll see. And I suppose it's never too late to fix that mistake if your results aren't satisfactory enough," Russia said.

Prussia snorted. "I thought you said you didn't like killing other nations."

"I didn't say I'd kill you. If you're even half as mighty as you say, surely you can live with a few dents in your head."

"Hah, you sure know how to give a motivational speech. Do you talk like that to all the others, too, or am I just that special to you?"

Prussia couldn't help but grin. He was so utterly bored these days. Getting any kind of reaction out of Russia was such an exciting change to his monotonous life, especially if he made him angry. Pissing off Russia wasn't perhaps the wisest or healthiest thing to do, but Prussia had never valued common sense very high.

"Everyone is special to me," Russia said diplomatically.

"You think you can keep that up when the whole world has joined you?" Prussia asked. Like that would ever happen. Nobody who wasn't stupid (Prussia wasn't!) or desperate (maybe a little...) would want to have anything to do with Russia.

"I have a big heart. There's plenty of friendship to share."

Prussia had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing out loud. For someone who represented something as mighty and terrifying as the Soviet Union, Russia certainly was naïve. Prussia had been on guard at first, suspecting that the large nation might be after something more than what he claimed, but there hadn't been a single inappropriate word or gesture. Russia really wanted nothing more than plenty of friends. It was almost sad.

"I was thinking we could celebrate your brother's new country that will soon join me," Russia said. He pulled a bottle from his pocket and showed it to Prussia like it was something to be proud of. It was a nice gesture, Prussia supposed, even if the reason behind it made his stomach turn.

He got them glasses and filled them. He returned to his seat by the window and watched Russia down half of his drink with one gulp. Sometimes Prussia thought he was immune to alcohol and could drink it like water. At first he had seen it as a challenge, but by now he knew better than try to drink Russia under the table. It only led to embarrassment.

"You were looking out the window when I came in. What's so interesting?"

"There used to be a factory over there before you took it home with you."

"Oh, right. I remember. I really like that one. We make rubber boots there now."

Prussia took a gulp of his drink and coughed at the burn. "Could have used it here, you know."

"You have to pay for what you and your brother have done. It's my right to take whatever I see fit," Russia said.

Prussia chose not to reply. There were times when he wanted to punch Russia's face in every time he reminded him that he was among the winners of the war while Prussia wasn't. On the other hand, Prussia wasn't sure if that had been a war he had wanted to win.

"And it's going to be better for you in the long run. This country has been tainted by fascists and enemies of the people. When everything lies in ruins and you have to start from a scratch, the land and people will heal. Then you can build a better, brighter future."

Prussia wished he had Russia's enthusiasm. It was difficult to believe in pretty words like that when he saw the state of everything. At the very least, it would take years and years of work to make anything out of these lands now that Russia had licked them clean of everything that was still functional.

And he didn't want to start over with Russia's ideology. This was going to be his country. He wanted it to be like him, mighty and strong and awesome. He wanted to do things like Fritz had. He wanted his kingdom back.

Realistically speaking, he knew that was impossible. Prussia would never return. Hell, he'd be lucky if the others didn't try to shoot him again once they found out that he was still alive and had a country of his own. But that didn't stop him from dreaming. He'd do anything to make this work.

He filled his glass once more and proposed another toast.

"What is it for?" Russia asked.

Prussia grinned. "Me."


	3. Chapter 3

I decided to just post the final chapter right away and be done with it. Thanks to everyone who read this!

**ALL ACCORDING TO PLAN**

**Chapter 3**

Germany could almost taste the tension in the room. America was standing with his palms pressed against the meeting table and glaring at Russia opposite him. The looks on England and France's faces mirrored that of America, but they weren't quite bold enough to raise their voices that high.

As for Germany, he didn't know what to think. He felt like he had swallowed a chunk of ice. Russia had just announced that his occupation zone would not be joined to the Federal Republic of Germany but would become its own country.

Germany had had a bad feeling about what was going on in Russia's territory, what with the communists having taken over behind the scenes a few years ago already. All this time, however, he had been hoping that it was only temporary and that he'd be able to change that when Russia finally retreated.

"You can't just create a country out of nowhere like that! Those lands belong to Germany! There's no basis for having a new country there!" America said.

Russia's smile didn't waver. He was the only person in the room who looked perfectly calm. "Oh, I think there is. And even if there wasn't, what would it matter? This is what the people in my zone want, so I'm just giving them what they've asked for."

"No, they don't. They're my people," Germany cut in, speaking for the first time during the meeting.

"Not anymore," Russia said with a shake of his head. "They belong to the German Democratic Republic. And many of them have fled from former German territories in the east, so they aren't quite as strongly yours as you'd like to think."

"Then whose are they? Do you really think Poland would take them after what happened? Or any of the others who drove them out?" England asked.

"They're East's people now."

France leaned forward in mild interest. "And who is this East?"

"True, I haven't introduced him to you yet."

Russia's words made Germany drew in a sharp breath. He turned to look at America and the others and saw surprise written all over their faces. He wondered which of them would have the courage to ask the question that had to be on everyone's mind.

Finally, America spoke. "What, are you saying there's someone representing this fake country of yours? A new nation like us?"

Russia hummed happily. "Something like that. But I think you should direct your questions at him, not me. He is very eager to meet all of you."

With that, Russia got on his feet and walked to the door. He opened it and motioned one of his men to come over.

"You can bring him in now," he said. Then he turned to face the others once more. Germany had the feeling that his eyes lingered on him longer than on anyone else. "I'm sure this is going to be a wonderful surprise for at least one of you."

Germany gritted his teeth when the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears. He had no idea what to expect or think. There couldn't be anyone representing the mockery of a country Russia had helped create. New nations couldn't be born out of nowhere like that if there was no group of people who held the idea of said nation in their hearts.

It was just like America had said. The German Democratic Republic was a farce, like trying to put together a puzzle that was missing all the central pieces. It was all wrong. It was –

A man walked into the room, and Germany's heart stopped for a moment.

The pale complexion, the grey hair, that cocky grin and posture as his hands came to rest on his hips... It was the perfect image of his brother. His brother who had died and whom he'd never see again. Could it really be, or was this some sick twist of fate that had created a new nation who looked exactly like the one who had died before him?

"Well," the familiar stranger said. "Didn't think you'd get to see me again, did you?"

Nobody replied.

That voice. It was Prussia's. It had to be. Even Russia couldn't be this cruel.

Germany slowly rose to his feet. The noise of him pushing his chair back sounded through the silence of the room. As if in a dream, he walked to the man standing before the large table and looked at him, really looked at him.

Every detail matched. This had to be his brother, and he wanted nothing more than to embrace him and call him by his name, but it was as if his body was frozen. If this was an illusion, he didn't want to do anything to destroy it.

"West, you look like you've seen a ghost."

The chuckle that followed the words broke the spell on Germany. He caught his brother into his arms and pulled him close, burying his nose into the crook of his neck.

Prussia smelled of different cigarettes than he usually smoked, but Germany barely noticed such details. He held him tight and never wanted to let go.

"I thought you were dead," he whispered. His voice sounded foreign in his ears. His throat was so tight that he could barely get the words out.

"Almost. Missed me?"

Germany tried to answer, but all he could manage was a shaky chuckle.

"Yeah, of course you missed me. I'm the best big brother in the world," Prussia mumbled against his neck. He wrapped his arms around Germany's waist, and Germany felt secure and at ease, the way he had felt when Prussia had comforted him after his nightmares when he had been little."And you're the best kid brother ever, so..."

He didn't have to finish. Germany knew what he meant, and he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

After a while, Prussia pulled away, and Germany reluctantly let him go. He would have much rather left and taken his brother home where they could talk, but the practical side of him suddenly remembered that they weren't alone and that there were dozens of questions that demanded answers.

He could shove his feelings aside for now. Prussia wasn't going anywhere. They had all the time in the world.

"Wow!" America declared as Germany turned around to face the others. "Dude, you're still alive! How did that happen?"

"I would very much like to know that as well," England said. At his words, everyone's eyes moved to Russia.

Russia smiled at the sudden attention. "I'm sorry. I lied to you a little. I never did anything to Prussia."

"Why not? You were so eager to kill him," France pointed out.

"That was a lie, too. I didn't think it was fair to gang up on one of us like that, so I decided I'd take him under my wing." As he spoke, Russia walked to Prussia and hung his arm around his shoulders.

Germany felt his stomach clench at how Prussia didn't seem at all uncomfortable with the overly familiar gesture.

England stood up, eyes blazing. "Then why did you tell us that you had beaten him to death like an animal? No, even animals gets deaths that are more merciful than what you led us to believe!"

"It made you feel guilty," Russia said. "It was most amusing to watch you twitch at Prussia's name and try to cling to the belief that your decision was justified, unable to admit to yourselves that you had acted like monsters. "

Germany couldn't decide what to think. A wave of gratitude had washed over him at Russia's words, but even then he couldn't close his eyes from the fact the he was an enemy and a dangerous presence in Europe. That he had saved Prussia didn't change any of that. And yet...

"Why didn't you tell me? Why did you never call me?" he asked.

Prussia shrugged. "He wouldn't let me."

"Why?" Germany glared at Russia, but the other nation didn't seem at all bothered by his anger. "Why did you let me think that my brother was dead?"

"I thought it would be a good lesson for you to learn. How many are mourning their brothers even now because of your war?" Russia replied.

There was nothing Germany could say to that. He clenched his fists and looked helplessly at Russia, struggling to come up with an answer.

"You've made your point," France chimed in. "I think we can all agree that what we decided was a mistake."

Prussia wriggled free from Russia's hold and took a step closer to the others. "A mistake, huh? Well, your damn mistake almost cost me my life! Don't think I'll just accept some lame apology like nothing happened!"

"I wasn't planning to apologize!"

"Hey, I for sure am glad you're alive!"

"Because you're happy to have me back or because this means you won't have to feel guilty anymore?" Prussia asked, and America's enthusiastic smile wavered a little.

Germany wished there was something he could have said to make the animosity in the room disappear. They shouldn't have been arguing. Prussia was back. Moments ago, he had been dead to the whole world, and now he was right here.

"Never mind our guilt. There's something a lot more important for us to discuss here," England said.

"Ah, yes. I think the happy reunion made us all forget," Russia replied. He walked to place his hands on Prussia's shoulders like he was presenting his child to the world. "I think proper introductions are in order. Everyone, say hello to the German Democratic Republic."

Prussia rolled his eyes and groaned. "Do you have to keep calling me that in public?"

"What?" Germany asked. He realised he had completely forgotten what they had been talking about before all this had happened.

"Cool, huh? I bet you all thought I was down for good, but nope! You can't beat me, so now I'm back on the map with a country of my own!"

Prussia whirled around to look at Germany with an excited grin. His eyes sparkled with happiness, and Germany wished from the bottom of his heart that he could have shared that. But as much as he wanted it, he knew he could never do it.

"Yeah, it's not much of a country now, but wait until I'm done with it. Then it's going to be amazing," Prussia continued, misunderstanding Germany's hesitant silence.

"And I will of course help," Russia added.

Germany glanced at America and the others, pleading with his eyes for someone to say something. He didn't want to, he couldn't be the first person to say that they would never accept the German Democratic Republic.

"This is completely absurd!" England snapped. "You had this planned from the start! The only reason you didn't kill Prussia was that you knew you needed someone to represent your occupation zone so that it would look at least a little like a real country."

"It is a real country!" Prussia snapped.

"You have commies in the charge! How could it ever work?" America asked.

"That interests me as well." The look on France's face looked half curious, half uncomfortable. "Have you decided to join Russia? I would have never expected that from you."

Prussia snorted and sent a disgusted glare to France's direction. "People change a little when their friends decide to sentence them to death, you know."

"Oh, will you stop acting like a martyr? Maybe it was a step too far, but you weren't by any means innocent!"

"Yeah, like you're some perfect angel who has never started a war! Remember your buddy Napoleon?"

"That – that was completely different! Napoleon didn't slaughter millions of innocent people!"

"I wonder what Germany thinks of all this."

Even though Russia hadn't raised his voice, the argument died as soon as he opened his mouth. Everyone turned their eyes to Germany, looking at him expectantly. Whatever gratitude he had felt for Russia earlier faded away at once. The bastard was trying to make him choose between his brother and his allies.

"I..."

"You think it's great, right? We can both be nations. It's the perfect solution," Prussia said.

"Surely you won't agree with this madness?" England prodded.

Germany wanted to run away. How could they look at him like that, knowing that there was no easy answer for him? Either he'd break his brother's heart or condemn his country and people.

"Can I talk to Prussia alone?" he asked.

"I have nothing against it," Russia said right away.

America glared at him challengingly. "Then neither do I!"

"Oh, so you agree with me? What a pleasant surprise!"

"Wait, no! I take that back! Germany, you can never talk to Prussia alone again."

"Stop being an idiot, America. I think it's fair enough that we let them talk. The circumstances are a tad unusual, after all," England said, and much to everyone's surprise, he got a nod of agreement from France.

"We'll be in the break room," Germany said. He asked Prussia to follow him and showed him the way, trying desperately to bring some sense to his disorganized and nearly panicked thoughts. This conversation would mean catastrophe for him, no matter what he said.

Prussia threw himself on a couch as soon as they entered the break room and crossed his hands behind his head.

"Been a while since I last sat so comfy. All the beds and chairs and stuff are total shit where I come from," he said.

"Where have you been all this time?" Germany asked. It wasn't professional or fair of him, but he didn't want to go straight to the point. Before anything else, he had to talk to his brother and find out as much as he could, start making up for the lost time.

"Around," Prussia said. "Started out in Berlin, obviously, but Russia has been telling me to move around and take a good look at my new country. I bet he just wanted to be an ass. It's not like I need a tour in Dresden or anything."

"And you never found the chance to call. Not once in two years."

A defensive look crossed Prussia's eyes, but it was quickly gone. "I told you I couldn't. That bastard kept an eye on me all the time, and after the first few times I learned that it's not a good idea to cross him when he's the only reason I'm still alive."

"Did he hurt you?" Germany asked. Who knew what Russia was capable of? He had come up with that sick story of how he had killed Prussia, so surely he could do that and worse if he wanted to.

"No," Prussia said with a laugh. "Worse. He gave me nothing but borscht to eat for a month because he thought it would make me like him more."

Germany let out a sigh of relief and sat on the couch by Prussia's side. He couldn't help but smile as he watched him sit and talk so casually. It reminded him of better times before the war, when he hadn't even guessed that he would one day face so many problems.

"I'm glad you're back," he said. "I don't even know how to say it. I thought..." He couldn't finish. There was no way he could put into words what he had felt when he had thought he had lost his brother forever.

"Hey, now. Don't tell me you're going to cry. Because I didn't come here to watch you bawl your eyes out when everything's perfect," Prussia said.

"I thought you were dead," Germany said in irritation. "Russia said he shot off your jaw and then beat you to death with a rock. You can't imagine how difficult it was for me to think that you had died like that."

Prussia grimaced at his words. "I guess I'll have to teach him a lesson and show him what happens when he bullies my kid brother."

"Don't provoke him. I don't want anything to happen to you now that you're back."

"Honestly, West. I'm not made of glass, and I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to treat me like a baby, especially now that I'm a real nation again," Prussia said and flashed him a satisfied, confident grin.

Germany's stomach twisted. How could fate be so cruel that when the impossible happened and he got his brother back, he immediately had to bring up this topic?

"That's actually what I wanted to talk about," he said.

"Yeah, I figured. I bet France and the others weren't happy to hear that. Hah, shows that they can't bring me down that easily!" Prussia let out an amused chuckle and leaned back on the couch, like he was suddenly the king of the world.

"I'm not sure this is going to work out," Germany said. Better soften the crash a little, he figured.

"Huh, what do you mean?"

"There are so many problems with this idea. I... I don't know how we could ever make it."

Prussia straightened his back and turned to look at him with a confused frown. "What problems? Name one."

Germany could have listed several, but he decided to go with the one that he was sure was the most neutral. "Your country has communists in the government. That's dangerous and unacceptable. The people can't want that."

"I don't like that either, but I guess all the commies fled to Russia's zone and hoped that they could have their own country there. Not a bad plan since it worked. But I'm not going to just sit on my ass and let that kind of people be my bosses for long. I'll find a way to get rid of them," Prussia said.

"How? Russia is watching over everything that happens there. You said it yourself. He'll never let you do that," Germany said.

"I'll figure something out. And Russia isn't as bad as you think. His methods suck, but he really thinks he's doing what's the best for everyone."

Germany could hardly believe these words were coming out of Prussia's mouth. Had he gone insane? Didn't he realise what a threat Russia was to everyone and to democracy in Europe? Hadn't they seen all too well what happened when countries were being led by insane dictators? Going from one ideological extreme to the other didn't make it any better.

"How can you say that? Russia wants to take the whole world down with his ideas. He's dangerous. How can you defend him?"

Prussia frowned at him like what he was saying didn't quite make sense. "He saved my life, West."

"Only so that you'd represent this new country for him."

"No. That was just a bonus. He said that he didn't agree with my sentence and that nations shouldn't try to kill each other."

"Of course he'd say that. Why would he admit that he only wants to use you? Can't you see that he's just manipulating you so that you'll do what he wants?"

Germany felt like his heart was about to break again. Russia may not have done anything physical to Prussia, but he had clearly fed him lies and twisted him to support his views. Two year away from friends with only Russia for company could do that to anyone.

"Manipulating me? Just who do you think is being manipulated here? Look at you, you're being all best buddies with the people who wanted me dead! You were sure they had killed me, and you still decided to ally yourself with them!"

Germany drew in a deep breath. "I had to," he said. "It was the only way for my country and people."

"Yeah, great. Well, it's not the only way anymore. I'm not asking you to join Russia because that would be fucking stupid, but you shouldn't be friends with those assholes either. We can work together and rebuild and make everything better on our own," Prussia said.

"It's impossible. I can't do it without them. America is giving me money, and I have to repair my relations to France."

Prussia looked like he had just tasted something sour. "Fine. I guess that makes sense. Thank God I don't have a border with France. You deal with him. I'm seriously not talking to that traitor ever again."

"France isn't that bad," Germany said, but he regretted it as soon as the words had left his mouth.

"What? He wanted to kill me! You were there! You heard him! You saw the look on his face when Russia dragged me away! And look at what he's been doing to your industry! Is that how you treat a friend?"

"We have to pay for what we did." Germany lifted his hand to run his fingers through his hair, but at the last moment, he clenched it into a fist and let it fall back. "That's the only way we can start over and be accepted among the others."

"That's bullshit!"

"We can't let personal feelings get in the way. We have to think of the people. We –"

"So you just decided to forget what they did to me. Nice."

"I didn't forget. I never will. But I'm a nation, and I have to put the needs of my people before mine. Surely you understand that. You've been a nation far longer than I have," Germany said in exasperation. "Please don't think I forgot. I'm just trying to make the best out of the situation."

Prussia was silent for a long time, not looking at him even though Germany tried to meet his eyes. Then he let out a long sigh.

"I guess I should be proud of you," he said. "If you'd just sat on your ass and cried after me, I would have seriously had to wonder how I raised you wrong. It's pretty great how far you've already come even though it has been only a few years. It takes fighting spirit to work together with someone who wanted to kill your brother. I'm not sure if I'd had the guts if they'd tried to do that you."

Germany was reminded of what France had said to him about why they had chosen to punish Prussia and not him. His stomach twisted with guilt as he realised that he agreed. Not with their decision but with their reasoning. Prussia took everything too personally and wasn't good at compromises.

"But whatever. That's all in the past. Now we're going to have to concentrate on how to get our two Germanies back on their feet. We're brother states in more ways than one, so we should work together," Prussia said. His eyes were shining again, and Germany hadn't seen him that strong and excited in years. "I've already got some pretty good ideas. First we could –"

"Prussia, stop."

"What?"

"It's not going to work. I can't ally myself with a communist country, especially one where Russia has such a strong influence."

"I'm independent! He won't get to make my decisions for me!"

"His army is still there!"

"Well, so what? They won't be there forever. I'm going to make this work. I promise. The commies won't be in power for long."

Germany sighed in frustration. "That's not the only problem."

"Okay, so what else crawled up your ass and died?"

This was going to be much more difficult. He couldn't blame this one on anyone. This was going to upset Prussia so much, and yet he had no choice but to say it.

"The people in your country are mine. The lands are mine. The border you and Russia have created is artificial. It's... it's not right."

The irritation on Prussia's face turned into confusion and then into pure anger.

"What?" he barked.

"I'm sorry. I can't change that." Germany so wished that he could have. He wanted nothing more than for Prussia to be happy and one of them again, but it couldn't be like this. Even if it had been possible for him to just claim a part of Germany, he didn't want it to happen under Russia's influence.

"The fuck is wrong with you? Are you saying you want me to hand over everything?"

"Don't you think it would be better? The people can't want this separation."

"You don't know anything! We all saw what the last war and the ideas behind it did. Many of my people never want to go back to that. They want something else. I can give them that."

"You mean Russia can give them that. Whether they really want it or not."

Fury flashed in Prussia's eyes, and for a brief moment Germany was sure that he'd hit him.

"Russia is not in control," Prussia growled. "I am. Because it's my country and my people. I lost everything because I supported you and your war and the madman you had in power. Now that I got another chance, you want to take it all away from me?"

"No, I –"

"I expected France and the others to be against this, but my own brother, too? How badly have they turned you against me? Do you agree with their decision to kill me?"

"No!" Germany blurted out. "Of course I don't! Haven't I already said how happy I am that you're alive?"

"Then why do you want to ruin me?"

"I don't! I would love nothing more than for you to have a country, but not like this. This isn't right. You can't trust Russia. It won't end well."

"Russia saved my life. Yeah, he's nuts, but he was there when nobody else would help me. I trust him a lot more than your goddamn allies!"

"Prussia, please. Give this up. Come home with me. I'm sure we can arrange something. We can represent Germany together."

Prussia let out a hoarse laugh. "Yeah, right. Like those assholes would ever let that happen. If they can't have me dead, they'll keep me away from power. Russia is my only option. But don't worry. As soon as I can, I'll ditch him and make my country better."

"My government thinks it's unlawful and wrong to divide Germany like that."

"Maps have been redrawn countless times. Why not again?"

Germany lowered his eyes to his hands and sighed. "And my government will never recognise the German Democratic Republic."

"Maybe not right away, but –"

"It's hopeless. It won't happen."

"Then what about you? If it was up to you, would you recognise my country?"

Germany couldn't bring himself to say anything. He supposed his silence was enough of an answer.

"Fine." Prussia spat the word out like it was poison. "Then I won't recognise your piece of shit of a fascist country either! I'm the real Germany from now on!"

Germany looked up, and the betrayed expression in Prussia's eyes hurt him like nothing before it. This wasn't how he he had wanted to be reunited with his brother. Everything was going wrong.

He reached out to grab Prussia's arm, but Prussia swatted his hand away.

"Don't touch me! I never thought even my own brother would abandon me like this!"

"It's not like that! I can't change the world situation. Please understand why I have to do this," Germany pleaded. If only Russia hadn't filled Prussia's head with these ideas. Two years ago, Prussia would have never agreed to anything with him.

"I understand it perfectly," Prussia said and got up to his feet. "I see where we stand with each other now and how the others have turned you against me. Go back to sucking France's cock or whatever you do in your spare time these days!"

With that, he marched to the door, wrenched it open and stormed out.

"Prussia! Wait!"

Germany ran after him, but he only caught a sight of Prussia's back as he hurried down the hall to the stairs. He wanted to follow him, but the anger and hurt he had heard in Prussia's voice made him afraid to do so. There was nothing he could do to change the unfair situation. Prussia had absorbed some of Russia's crazy ideas, and Germany no longer knew what to say to him.

Not knowing what else he could do, he returned to the meeting room where the others were sitting around the table. Everyone there looked exactly the same as earlier. Germany supposed they had been sitting in silence and waiting for him and Prussia to come back.

"Well?" England asked.

Germany shook his head, having nothing to say.

"Ah," Russia said and got up on his feet. "I think I had better go. East probably needs a shoulder to cry on."

Germany watched Russia walk to the door. The burning desire to shoot him almost frightened him; he had sworn he'd never again raise his hand against another nation.

Russia stopped at the door and waved a small goodbye. "It was nice seeing all of you again. Until next time."

The room was silent for a long time after Russia had left. Germany felt everyone's eyes on him as he sank on his seat and buried his face into his hands.

"I had him back. For a moment, I had him back."

* * *

Russia was in no hurry as he walked down the hall and made it to the front doors. He knew that Prussia couldn't have made it far. Where would he go? Who could he go to? Now that even his faithful little brother had turned his back on him, Prussia had nobody left but him.

It was a shame that Germany was so stubborn, but Russia had known to expect it. America and the others had filled his head with their propaganda and made him hostile towards Russia's ideology. Russia had been hoping that he could have fixed Germany's attitude problem after the war when the Nazis were no longer pulling the strings, but it looked like Germany had just replaced one group of fascists with another. It would take a long time before he'd manage to convince him to join him, and he might need some force to do it. People were sometimes too stubborn to see what was good for them.

But that wasn't important now. What mattered was that Prussia was on his side. Not yet entirely out of free will, but that would change in time. Russia would show him that he didn't have any other friends now and that life with him would be wonderful if he just changed his attitude a little.

He chose the street that would lead him to the hotel where he and Prussia were staying. There was no other direction Prussia could have taken. And sure enough, he didn't have to walk for long before he spotted a miserable figure leaning his back on a fence with his hands in his pockets.

"There you are," Russia said. "I'm curious why you decided to storm out like that."

"Yeah, like the traitorous bastard didn't tell you. I bet he has declared it to the fucking world already!"

Prussia didn't look at him as he spoke. His shoulders were stiff with anger, and Russia could see the muscles on his face twitch as he gritted his teeth.

"The talk with your brother didn't go well?" he guessed. Of course it hadn't. Russia had known that even before the German Democratic Republic had been declared a country. There was no way Germany would recognise his brother for as long as he was with his fascist allies.

Prussia spat at his feet.

"I'm sure he'll come around," Russia said.

"Like hell. He has become a bitch to France and the others. I bet it's not just factories and crap that they demand from him. And I bet he's more than happy to give it!" Prussia lifted a shaky hand to run his fingers through his hair and let out a string of profanities. "That piece of shit has a lot of nerve! I was a nation before he was even there! I raised him! I taught him everything and gave up my kingdom for him! And now he thinks he has the right to just toss me aside like I don't fucking matter!"

He clenched the hand in his hair into a fist, yanking so that it had to hurt and turned to look at Russia with eyes that were more vulnerable than angry.

"I raised him," he repeated, quiet as if all of his anger had been spent.

"This is not what Germany really thinks," Russia said and moved closer to place a comforting hand on Prussia's shoulder. He couldn't quite say when it had happened, but it was a good while since Prussia had stopped moving aside when he touched him. "It's America speaking through him."

"Same thing."

Russia smiled hopefully. "We can defeat him. All you have to do is show your brother that you're right and he's wrong. Then he'll apologize and you can be together again."

"I don't need to prove him anything. It's obvious that I'm right," Prussia muttered.

"Yes, we are right."

Russia put a finger under Prussia's chin and lifted his head up so that he'd look at him again. Oh, dear, it looked like the poor thing was close to crying. That wouldn't do. Russia didn't want a proud nation like his German Democratic Republic to cry because of what their enemies said.

"Don't worry. It's all going to be fine," he said.

Prussia swatted his hand away, some resistance left in him after all.

"Germany is the one who should be crying. Not you."

"I'm not crying! I'm just... not crying. Why should I? I'm not the one who has to lick France's boots and who knows what else. I've got my own country, and it's going to be great. I don't need my brother."

Prussia took a few steps away from him and turned to look at the cloudy sky with his hands on his hips. "I'll show that selfish traitor who's the better nation around here! My Germany will be awesome! It's going to be the best country on the fucking planet!" he swore.

Russia walked to stand by Prussia's side, happy that he was feeling so confident.

"I'll help you build it. Just do as I say, and everything will be fine."

Russia smiled agreeably and put his arm around Prussia's shoulders as they started walking down the street. His heart was full of wonderful ideas for their future.

* * *

**AN: **Yeah, that was kind of a depressing ending, but this is how I planned it from the start. I have plans to write a sequel about Prussia and Germany's relationship through the next few decades, but I need to do a little research before I can get working on it.


End file.
